


When A Stranger Strolled Into Town

by Maiika



Series: Old West AU [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 06:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12953307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiika/pseuds/Maiika
Summary: Bulma was growing bored with her pioneer life, trying to find excitement in novella-inspired dreams of romance.  West City was a relatively peaceful town in those days.  The same faces, same routine, same everything.  The appearance of a stranger brought new life to the town.  Along with this stranger's arrival, change came to West City.





	When A Stranger Strolled Into Town

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel for Western, taking place five years before that story begins. This one-shot can stand alone on its own, but will probably be even better for you if you've read Western. Either way, I hope you enjoy reading!

That day, the air was so sticky with humidity that Bulma could've peeled her slip from her calves bit by bit and _still_ felt the upper layers of her frilly dress sticking to her thighs.  Of course, part of the reason her skin was moist had nothing to do with the heat.  She'd been watching her new beau, the town's newest lawman, as he hefted canvas sacks of flour into Chi-Chi King's wagon across the street.  The way his broad shoulders moved and flexed beneath his shirt with every lift mesmerized Bulma as she gazed through the whirling mirage of heat between them.  The way his tan forehead shimmered in the sunlight when he removed his tan hat to wipe his brow was simply beautiful.  There was no other way to put it.   Bulma stopped herself.  She needed to slow down on the romance novels if she thought Yamcha's _sweat_ was poetically attractive.  
  
Bulma sighed and waved the lace fan pinched between her gloved fingers.  "Do you really think he told her he loves her?"  
  
"I don't know, Honey," her mother replied with a smile.  She sat upright from whatever she'd been fiddling with on the porch floor to meet Bulma's eyes across the wooden table and then follow her gaze across the street.  "What do _you_ think?"  
  
Usually, Bulma would be jealous about seeing a man who should've been completely absorbed in _her_ volunteering to be in close proximity to another young, attractive female.  Especially when that younger girl had claimed to Bulma in confidence just the other day that Yamcha Puar had confessed feelings to her.  But remembering Yamcha _was_ the most eligible bachelor in West City, Bulma knew she had to make this thing between them work.  If that meant restraining her jealousy in order to make him happy, to avoid scaring Yamcha off, she would.   
  
Bulma smiled, narrowed her brows, and waved her fan again.  "I think he doesn’t know what love is yet.”  
  
"Of course, Bulma," her mother said with a brilliant smile as she pulled a small green vial from her apron pocket.  
  
Bulma turned away before her mother would inevitably tip her head back and down her "medication".  The rich and famous Mrs. Brief of West City was taking her laudanum more and more these days.  Ignoring the frequency of her usage was beginning to make Bulma uncomfortable, even if her father _had_ prescribed it for her chronic headaches.  
  
"Is anything special happening this evening?" Mrs. Brief asked.  "Will you and Yamcha do somethin’ together?"  
  
"I sure hope so," Bulma muttered into the back of her hand as she refocused her gaze on Yamcha.  "Lord knows there's never anything else going on in this town."  
  
Mrs. Brief tittered.  "The nights can be awfully quiet, unless you're spending time in the saloon, or at Mr. Satan's house."  
  
Bulma rolled her eyes.  "That's not a _house_ , Mama.  That's-"  
  
With a scoff, she waved it off.  Her mother's mind was already flitting inattentively somewhere else, anyway.  Mrs. Brief wouldn't register the meaning of 'bawdry house' if Bulma explained it to her ten different ways.  Even if she understood, she'd just as soon forget.  
  
"I'm going to head on inside the hotel," her mother said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder.  "I want to see if there's anything else I can do for that poor bird we found with the busted wing.  I plan to have dinner ready whenever your father comes back from making his deposit at Mr. King's.  Will you be eating with us, Bulma?  Would you like to invite Yamcha?"  
  
Just as Bulma was opening her mouth to reply, her jaw dropped completely.  She couldn't believe what she saw just across the way, beyond Chi-Chi's fully loaded wagon which was being pulled with some rare help from Oolong, _the pig_.  As the wagon moved, the figure Bulma saw moved closer.  It was a man.  And not just any man.  A stranger to West City.  And a handsome one, at that.  
  
"Bulma?"  
  
Bulma blinked at her mother and discovered that somewhere in the midst of her staring, she'd risen to her feet.  She was now standing with her fingers clenched around her folded fan, staring open-mouthed at the stranger in a very unladylike fashion.  She flicked her fan open and fanned herself, feigning an air of indifference as her eyes darted away from the stranger.  
  
"Oh!" her mother exclaimed jovially, causing Bulma to wince.  "Well, isn't _he_ handsome?"  
  
Bulma sighed.  There was no point in hiding her interest from her mother.  "Where do you think he traveled here from?"  
  
"I don't know.  Maybe we should ask him."  
  
"Mama," Bulma said with a fluttering roll of her eyes.  "He could be a bandit.  You know men passing through town out here are nothing to play around with."  
  
"Couldn't be worse than that savage, Piccolo Daimao."

"Yeah," Bulma said with a grimace, instinctively glancing up and down the street.  "From what I hear, some bandits _can_ be."  
  
"Like Saiyans?"  
  
"Yeah," Bulma said absently with a nod.  "Like them."  
  
Bulma’s eyes acutely followed the stranger who meandered through their street with a horse in tow.  The horse was gorgeous, tan and lean.  His tall (but not too tall) master pulled him comfortably by the reins with the thumb of his other hand casually hooked through the beltloop of his pants.  There was a gun strapped to his hip by a leather holster, Bulma didn't fail to notice, not far out of reach for an adept gunslinger.  Judging by his demeanor, though, he had no intentions of using it.  He kept his hat down to conceal his face, his only distinguishing feature as he walked through a whirling hazes of heat being sprays of black hair shooting out from beneath his hat’s brim.  It was only when he looked up every few minutes to survey the street, a hesitant smile on his face, that Bulma was able to take a good look at him.  And every time he did, her heart fluttered.  He was young, but even better looking than Yamcha. And though it should've been a deterrent, the mere thought of him being a bandit excited Bulma.  
  
As Bulma walked down the steps of the Capsule Hotel porch to cross the street toward him, a crash sounded.  Chi-Chi's wagon’s front wheel had caught in a chuckhole.  It seemed the others on the street hadn’t realized the stranger’s presence yet.  While Oolong tried to correct the problem he'd apparently caused, Chi-Chi’s tirade directed at him could’ve entertained whoever might peek their head out of the cool shade to watch the chaos.  It seemed only Yamcha was brave enough to avoid hiding, though, as he stepped in and tried to right the wagon and mediate the situation peacefully.  Bulma left him to it and strode right past the wagon scene to cut off the stranger's path.  
  
"Hey, Stranger," she said with a lilt of her shoulder, her hands clasped behind her back.  "What brings you to West City?"  
  
He stopped abruptly, his horse along with him, and tipped his hat.  "Just…passing through, ma'am."  
  
Bulma balked, affronted.  She was no _ma'am_ , barely past twenty.  He might've been younger - she could tell by his immature tone of voice and seeing him up close he had to be closer to Chi-Chi's age - but that gave him _no right_ to address her like that.  Still, his 'just passing through' fueled her curiosity enough to quell her anger.  Bulma growled off her annoyance before smiling.  
  
"So what are you," she said with a flirty giggle, "a bandit or somethin'?"  
  
The stranger flinched.  "N-no!  Me?"  
  
Bulma crossed her arms.  "So why just passing through?  West City's the greatest town in the West.  My father practically built it.  Anyone who finds themselves here wants to stay - except bandits and bounty hunters.  You're not a bounty hunter, are you?"  
  
Bulma's question was rhetorical.  Bandit, she could buy, but bounty hunter, he certainly was not.  He was acting too nervous for an assured hunter out seeking his target.  But _nervous_ fit the bandit profile.  It was the only profile that _did_ fit, if this man was here with no intention of settling.  Bulma issued the young man a sly smile.  He beamed back at her with a brilliant, contagious grin.  For someone who didn't want to be pegged for a bandit, he sure seemed relaxed.  He clearly had no idea what Bulma was thinking.  
  
"I'm no bounty hunter," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle, before lifting his hat to take a good look at something past Bulma’s shoulder.  "Say, does that place have any good eats?  I'm starvin'."  
  
Bulma raised a brow and turned to follow his gaze.  "The saloon?  Yeah, but-"  
  
She was about to suggest her parents’ Capsule Hotel with its finer dining for registered guests, where she hoped the stranger would decide to stay, but he was already leading his whinnying horse away from her, to the signed _West City Saloon_ establishment playing a melodic piano tune that could be faintly heard over Chi-Chi’s yelling and Oolong’s whimpers of defense.  
  
"Who's that, Miss Brief?"  
  
"Deputy!" Bulma said cheerily as she whirled away from the stranger's disappearing broad back to smile at Yamcha.  "I see you settled the situation with Miss King's wagon.  I was watching you earlier while you loaded it.  That was very kind of you."  
  
"Kind?"  Yamcha raised a brow warily as he smiled. "She's a nice girl, Miss King."  
  
"Mmhmm," Bulma drawled, trying to hide her annoyance.  "You looked good, working hard in the sun.  ‘Deputy’ fits you, I think."  
  
Yamcha's cheeks flushed beautifully as his eyes cast toward the ground.  He worked his jaw a little before he finally sputtered some words.  "Th-thanks, Bulma.  You, too.  Now, uh, what's with the stranger?"  
  
Bulma shrugged as she turned to look at the man tying up and talking to his horse in front of the West City Saloon.  "Might be a bandit."  
  
"A _bandit?"_   Yamcha's eyes narrowed.  "Sheriff Roshi and I better keep an eye on him, then."  
  
Bulma watched as Yamcha crossed the street, his strides wrought with determination.  He waved his hand to signal for the sheriff rocking on the porch of his office down the street, while Bulma mirrored the gesture by throwing her fan open and waving it in her face.  She was curious to see how this vagrant would react to Yamcha and Sheriff Roshi.  She would honestly be surprised if any violence was involved.  The stranger didn’t seem like he meant to cause trouble.  He certainly hadn't made any moves toward _her_ , to Bulma's disappointment.  Bulma bit her lip.  The curiosity was going to kill her if she didn't see this for herself.  She'd better follow them in there.  
  
"What’s going on, Bulma?"  
  
Just as she was poised to spring forward, Bulma grounded herself to narrow her eyes over her shoulder at Chi-Chi.  "I'm heading into the West City Saloon.  Can't talk now, Chi-Chi.  Sorry."  
  
As Bulma darted forward, she grimaced at the sound of footsteps chugging through the dirt after her.  "Are you going there because of that boy?  The one Deputy Puar and Sheriff Roshi just followed inside?  Who is he?"  
  
"I don't know," Bulma said, balling her fists into the material of her dress at her sides as she whirled on Chi-Chi with a warning look.

Chi-Chi's father never allowed her into the saloon.  It wasn’t an appropriate place for a young lady (or so _her_ father thought), so Bulma didn't know what Chi-Chi thought she was doing.  She was _not_ going to hold Bulma back from going in.

“Well, I want to see for myself!” Chi-Chi said, storming past Bulma, her skirts batting noisily against her legs as she moved and Bulma turned to follow.  “Who knows what that old codger, Sheriff Roshi might say to chase him away from here.”

Bulma furrowed her brows.  “Chi-Chi!  Your father says-“

“I don’t care _what_ he says,” Chi-Chi snapped as her boots traversed the porch steps leading to the saloon.  “He’s in there with the rest of ‘em.  He can kick me out if he needs to, but I’m going in before those men do something stupid!”

Bulma reached for the handrail of the saloon’s porch with a scoff.  “Sheesh, Chi-Chi.  They’re not planning to tar and feather the guy.”

When Bulma stepped inside the saloon, the usual crowd was gathered around one of the round tables opposite the bar – and then some.  Surprised by the crowd, She exchanged a glance with Mr. Shinhan, who stood behind the bar, his hands braced on the countertop, Chiaotzu lining liquor bottles along the counter by his side, but neither of them looking as alarmed as they _should’ve_ been had there been a mob gathered around an intrusive outlaw.  When her eyes met Tien Shinhan’s, Bulma saw reassurance and ease in them – which was _unusual_ coming from the perceptive saloon owner.

Bulma’s eyes sought Chi-Chi, and widened when they landed on the dark-haired teen at the crowded table with the stranger.  With a smile, Chi-Chi took an empty seat offered to her by the stranger’s vague gesture of invitation.  Chi-Chi’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink as she smiled at the stranger.  Bulma walked forward, creeping in on this impromptu gathering as a burst of laughter rang out from the table. 

As she neared and the laughter quieted, Bulma recognized Mr. King’s baritone voice.  “If you need somewhere to stay here, Goku, my home has an extra room!”

Bulma raised a brow and stepped forward as she muttered to herself, “ _Go_ ku?”

“Ah,” the stranger said with his brows lifting high into the bangs of an untidy disarray of black hair, which was revealed to Bulma now that the hat was off his head, hanging on the back of his chair.  “really?”

“But no funny business with my daughter,” Mr. King added with a glare, before shooting Chi-Chi a wink.  “unless you plan to marry her.”

“Dad!”

Bulma’s jaw dropped.  Chi-Chi’s tone might’ve been reprehensive, her fists might’ve been clenched in her lap, but Bulma knew what she saw when she looked into Chi-Chi’s dancing eyes and flushed face.  Chi-Chi was smitten with the stranger.  Goku seemed to have no clue about it, but Bulma did, and her reaction was a mixture of shock and relief.  She thought for sure that Chi-Chi was interested in Yamcha.  If she was right about Chi-Chi, this meant now Bulma had no real competition for winning Yamcha’s affection, so that was a good thing.  Right?

“Would that be okay with you, Mr. Son?” Chi-Chi asked the stranger.

He shrugged and panned a vacant gaze across the expectant faces around the table.  Then a smile lit his face.  “Yeah.  I guess so.  That can work!”

“Good,” Mr. King boomed.  “Well, that’s settled!”

With a quiver of her shoulders, Chi-Chi rose from her chair.  Bulma noticed the slight movement of her finger extending to tap Yamcha on the shoulder as she brushed past the deputy’s chair and whispered, “Can I have a word with you please, Deputy Puar?”

Yamcha flinched, followed Chi-Chi’s movement with a turn of his head, and rose to his feet with a look of confusion on his handsome face.  At least Bulma wasn’t the _only one_ who had no idea what Chi-Chi was up to.  She pressed her hands on her hips and cocked her head as she watched Yamcha follow Chi-Chi into a more secluded corner of the saloon.  They were close enough that Bulma could hear them if she listened carefully, so she took the nearest empty seat and raised her finger in the air to flag Chiaotzu for a drink.

“I’m very sorry, Yamcha,” Chi-Chi said, prompting Bulma to raise her gaze from the table.  “I’ve been giving real thought to what you proposed the other day.  But you see-“

Bulma dug her fingernails into the wood grains of the table’s edge.  Her face was burning, and she was sure if anyone looked at her, she’d be turning red.  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Apparently, Yamcha _had_ confessed feelings to Chi-Chi.  Perhaps even a proposal, judging by how dramatically Chi-Chi was going about rejecting him.  She couldn’t _believe_ that man!

“Miss King!” Yamcha interrupted with his palms raised defensively.  “I really don’t-“

“No, you need to hear this,” Chi-Chi said stubbornly.  “It’s the right thing to do.  I need to be honest with you.  You see, I’m saving myself for someone else now.”

“Wh-what?”

“And so I know it might be hard on you, since you love me-“

“Miss King, you see, we -you and I- we couldn’t-“

Chi-Chi cocked her head at Yamcha. “So, you understand?” 

Through the red haze of her rage, Bulma could see Yamcha’s adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped.  Chi-Chi’s long black hair shook in a wave as she fidgeted, likely losing patience with Yamcha’s long silence.  When her head turned to the side, to where this _Goku_ had the other patrons in the saloon easygoing and laughing, and Yamcha followed her gaze, Bulma noticed no hint of jealousy on Yamcha’s face.  But when Chi-Chi’s gaze turned back on Yamcha, Bulma noticed he seemed nervous again.  Bulma’s rage subsided.  Yamcha wasn’t disappointed about losing Chi-Chi.  Still.  Yamcha shouldn’t have said _whatever_ he’d said to Chi-Chi behind Bulma’s back.

“Y-yeah sure,” Yamcha said, rubbing the back of his head until his hat tilted over his brow.  “I understand.  Good luck to you.”

Bulma could tell by Yamcha’s responsive, wide smile that Chi-Chi smiled as she spoke. “Oh, thank you!  And good luck to you, too, Deputy!”

Bulma bit her cheek as she watched Chi-Chi skip away to join the others.  She’d never seen a girl so giddy before.  She hoped _she_ never appeared that way.  She turned her eyes on Yamcha.  There were times where she _felt_ like behaving the way Chi-Chi was - when she looked at him.  Yamcha was the perfect man for a woman living out here.  He had everything to offer her and he was enjoyable to look at.  It only made sense that the most beautiful, richest young lady in town would be his wife one day.  Bulma gnawed her bottom lip.  There were other times though, where she felt like something was missing.  Recalling the conversation Chi-Chi had just had with Yamcha, Bulma rose from her chair to stomp over to him.

“Well, _there’s_ some gentleman for you!” Bulma snapped the moment his black eyes met hers.

“Bulma?”

“I _cannot_ believe you.”

“You-“  Yamcha looked at the table full of people, then back to Bulma, back to them, and back to Bulma again.  “You don’t know the whole story, Bulma!”

Bulma crossed her arms.  “I suppose that’s the whole idea, _isn’t_ it?”

“N-no!  I-“

“I thought you _cared_ about me, Yamcha.”

“I do!  Bulma!” Yamcha said as he seized Bulma by the shoulders and pressed his face forward until his nose was inches from hers.  “Miss King means nothing to me, at least not romantically.  She…just misunderstood something I said.”

Bulma swallowed down the lump that was forming in her throat.  “Misunderstood?”

“Yeah,” Yamcha said with a crooked smile.  “I don’t want to upset the girl and tell her otherwise, that’s all.”

Bulma cocked a smile.  “You’d be too scared to.”

“Of Miss King?” Yamcha said with a furtive glance at Chi-Chi, before the smile quickly wiped from his face.  “Maybe you’re right.”

“Speaking of being scared,” Bulma said with a glance at the stranger who’d so quickly surrounded himself with West City’s trusting residents.  She met Yamcha’s eyes pointedly.  “Nothing to be scared of there?”

Yamcha grinned.  “Not a bandit.  False alarm.”

“You sure?”

“Sheriff Roshi checked out his name - no wanted records for any Goku Son.”

“He could be using a false name,” Bulma said as she crossed her arms.

Yamcha waved a hand to gesture to the table, where Goku finished a story and tossed his head back laughing.  He’d held everyone’s rapt attention and even had the usually uptight banker, Mr. King, joining in the raucous laughter. 

“Does he _look_ like a bandit to you?” Yamcha said.  “He even agreed to stay with Mr. King.”

Bulma pursed her lips.  “He’d move along if he’s a bandit.”

“He still could,” Yamcha said with a shrug, “but I don’t expect him to.  Just look at Miss King with him.  I really think she’s set on marriage already after that remark from her father.”

“Wow.  _She_ moves fast,” Bulma said with a measured glance at Yamcha.

He either didn’t catch her meaning or notice the look she was giving him, or maybe was too distracted by the alluring new company they had yet to get to know.  Whatever it was, he wasn’t thinking about moving forward with their relationship.  Bulma sighed.  As of yet, they hadn’t even made anything official between them.

Yamcha turned a smile on Bulma.  “He seems nice.  Want to go talk to him?”

“Goku?” Bulma said as Yamcha threw his arm over her shoulder.  “What kind of name is that?”

“I don’t know, but I have a good feeling about this guy.  You’ll see.  I think it’ll be a good thing that he came here.”

“Okay, Yamcha,” Bulma said with a playful roll of her eyes.  “I guess we’ll see.”

“And the next time a stranger comes strolling into town,” Yamcha said with a hint of warning in his tone, “you let _me_ deal with him, instead of approaching him yourself, okay?”

“Aw,” Bulma said, “are you getting protective of me now?”

“That’s my job,” he said.

Bulma frowned.  That wasn’t the warm response she was expecting, and for a moment, she was lost in her disappointment.  But then she felt it - warm, soft, and comforting pressure on her temple.  As she heard the pucker of lips releasing her skin, Bulma inhaled happily.  Yamcha was a gentleman.  She could add that to the list of qualities that made him the perfect candidate for her husband.  He might not have had the excitement factor of a dark, mysterious stranger who just strolled into town, but he was here.  And he was hers.  And he _cared_ for her.

Maybe somewhere along the line, Yamcha had a mysterious background in _his_ past, waiting to come out, like that of any stranger who'd ever ventured out West.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot more ideas for these side stories to Western, which I will be posting on Patreon as they come (https://www.patreon.com/Maiika). They will all end up here eventually in this Old West series.


End file.
